Mea Culpa
by snooky-9093
Summary: An ongoing behavior problem leads the camp chaplain to request a meeting with Hogan. 2016 PBA winner! Bronze for best short general story. Also nominated for best Original character, Chaplain John Waverly!


_..._

_...For a friend..._

_Mea Culpa_

Lieutenant John Waverly walked his visitor to the door of the hut. This was the third counseling session of the morning, and it had gone longer than anticipated.

"Thanks, Chaplain. Just had to get it off my chest."

"You're welcome."

The other prisoner hesitated. "No one will find out I brought this up?"

"Completely confidential. I won't mention any names. I won't even bring it up. Just say the word."

Waverly waited as his visitor bit his lip and thought for a moment.

"No, sir. I don't mind. Maybe it will help, maybe not. But it's just not right."

Waverly nodded. "All right. Consider it done." The chaplain waited several days before requesting a meeting with the Senior POW officer. The timing was good; no air raids were scheduled due to the rain, and the bad weather meant sabotage jobs were on hold. He arranged for a time when the barracks would be empty.

Hogan was in a good mood as he headed over to the chaplain's hut. A recent rescue mission had been successful, and with the lull in operations, his men were able to get some much needed rest. Hogan knocked on the door of the hut.

The chaplain answered the door. "Come in, sir."

Hogan removed his jacket, and shook off the rain drops. To his surprise, the common room was empty. "Where is everybody?" It was unusual, particularly in this weather, to have the entire population of a hut out at the same time.

"At the rec hall," Waverly answered.

Hogan nodded. "This must be serious."

"Coffee?" Waverly asked. He motioned. "Please, have a seat."

"Thanks." Hogan glanced around the hut. To his relief, nothing looked amiss. "How are your set office hours working out?"

"Good. The men like an open door policy, and they don't feel they're intruding." Waverly placed a mug in front of Hogan, and then took a seat.

"Go ahead. What's the problem?" Hogan ignored the mug.

Waverly took a deep breath. He had thought long and hard about how to handle this. He was afraid he was treading on thin ice, dealing with matters not of his concern. But after the counseling session several days earlier, plus the gossip he overheard, Waverly was confident the subject needed to be addressed.

"When I say the name Eleanor Roosevelt, what thoughts come to mind, Colonel?"

Hogan looked at the young man's face. The chaplain was clearly being sincere. "I'll confess that's not what I expected you to say."

Waverly smiled. "What comes to mind, sir?"

Hogan took a sip of the coffee, and placed the mug back on the table. He sat back in his chair, and placed his interlocked hands behind his head. "Well, First Lady, of course. The president's legs. I mean, she goes places his can't and acts as his eyes and ears. I remember she did that a lot during the depression, meeting with poverty-stricken people in the country. Outspoken, compassionate. Works for civil rights. A writer. Teddy Roosevelt's niece. Controversial."

Waverly nodded. "I know she's controversial, but she has guts. I think she'd approve of some of what you've accomplished here, especially considering her advocacy for civil rights."

"That's true," Hogan replied soberly. "You know, she went down in a coal mine. And you heard about her tour in the Pacific. And, she's a mother who worries about her sons, like all mothers."

Waverly smiled. "Anything else?"

"I make it a habit to never discuss politics or religion with any of my men, Lieutenant. What is this really about? It's not about Mrs. Roosevelt, is it? Not the kind of topic you'd clear a hut for."

"You're perceptive," Waverly said. "But you have to be, considering the position you hold, and what you do here." He leaned forward. "You are correct. This isn't technically about Mrs. Roosevelt. It's more about what you didn't say about her."

Hogan tilted his head. "I'm not following you."

"Mrs. Roosevelt is, how can I put this nicely, not considered to be...well, she's not an attractive woman, is she, sir?" Waverly couldn't help but flush with embarrassment.

"Why would you bring that up?" asked Hogan. "Who cares?"

"Colonel, one of the men in camp came to see me recently about something that has been bothering him for quite some time. I had to convince myself to bring this to your attention, because it concerns parts of your operation, and how you conduct business with the Kommandant. But after consideration, I felt I needed to say something because I believe it is was affecting morale."

"Go ahead."

"This prisoner was getting upset at what he was hearing from some of the other men. This concerns Mrs. Linkmeyer."

"Burkhalter's sister?" Hogan asked, shocked.

"Apparently, there have been unkind, well, mean and hurtful things said about her. I know there was a recent operation involving her, I don't know the details, but anytime she's around, tongues wag afterwards. And I'm sorry to have to say this, but I'm concerned you may be fueling the fire, so to speak. Playing her and Klink like a fiddle, and your fiddle playing is better than his violin playing."

Hogan was so shocked, he was speechless.

"Look, sir. She could be a Hitler-worshiping, Antisemitic, evil, card-carrying member of the Nazi party, for all I know. But, that has nothing to do..."

"With her looks," Hogan finished the chaplain's sentence.

"No, sir. And making such cruel jokes about her looks, among other things, well, seems to somehow go against what we're fighting for, doesn't it?"

"She's not a member of the Nazi party," Hogan stated. "We, I mean, London had her investigated. Her brother, well, I can't say anymore about him. She's just a lonely middle-aged woman who has lost her husband." Hogan stood up and began pacing. "And for us, she's a means to an end. In another world..." He shook his head. "Eleanor Roosevelt." He chuckled. "You sure you're not a psychiatrist?"

"Positive."

"This man who spoke with you." Hogan hesitated. "No, never mind. I won't even bother asking. I know you won't tell me. But you have to understand, as does he, that if necessary, I won't hesitate to use Mrs. Linkmeyer if conditions warrant it. The safety of everyone here comes first."

"We do understand that, sir," answered Waverly. "The prisoner in question said to me that Mrs. Linkmeyer could be someone's mother, and that he was not the only man upset with the situation."

"He made his point.. I will eventually bring this to everyone's attention. But slowly, and in the right way. Don't know how yet, but I'll figure it out," Hogan said. "Thanks for bringing this to my attention."

"You're welcome." Waverly walked Hogan over to the door. "Tell me, sir. You seem to admire the First Lady. Did you vote for President Roosevelt?"

Hogan smiled. "As I said, I make it a habit to never discuss religion or politics."

* * *

_I have never liked the episodes featuring Gertrude Linkmeyer. The cruelty and sexism, even for the 1960's, is a bit much to take. I was "pissed" (that's a good word) about a comment made in a review, and so writing this was my therapy._

_John Waverly first appeared in my 2009 story, "He Who Saves a Single Life, Saves the Entire World," and then I wrote a dedicated chapter to the chaplain in my 2013 story, "With a Song in My Heart." (Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition)_

_If you haven't guessed, I'm quite an admirer of Eleanor Roosevelt. I recommend Ken Burns' recent PBS documentary on the Roosevelts. There are also numerous reliable websites as well. Eleanor had problems with self-esteem and a very unhappy childhood. Her mother insulted her looks, and Eleanor considered herself an ugly duckling and was very self-conscious. Yet, she conquered her lack of self-confidence and made a difference._


End file.
